Only You
by GetPitchSlappedNeonTrees
Summary: Our favorite characters' lives have been forever changed. But will they survive all of the challenges the world throws at them, such as kids, secrets, parents, past lovers, abuse, and deceitful snakes? Or will their completely different lives corrupt their morals, along with their relationships? *Sequel to Anything Could Happen*
1. Chapter 1

**Only You**

**A/N: Welcome back! I hope you enjoy this story as much as ACH. I hunkered down on a cold, rainy Sunday and wrote this.**

**And I edited this on my free day (thank God for parent-teacher conferences!).**

**Without further ado, I present…ONLY YOU!**

**Chapter 1—Mean Streets***

Beams of sunlight streamed through the shutters, casting a warm halo across the room. Legs were tangled in the sheets, and the couple was glowing with happiness, despite the uneasy and damaging news they received mere days ago.

"You awake?" Fabian mumbled.

His fiancée's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. "How can I sleep after last night?" She joked, stretching her arms.

He laughed. "I didn't get any sleep; though last night was amazing, I think my lack of sleep was due to the traffic of New York."

"Yeah, it can get pretty loud. You have to get used to it," She replied, wrapping a sheet around her.

The moment was ruined when both of their iPhones binged. They groaned and grabbed their devices.

"Uh, my flight leaves in two hours. You?" He asked.

"Meeting with Will's headmistress," she read, disappointed. "It's regarding his courses." **(1)**

"Are you okay with me leaving? I can cancel—"

"No, I completely understand—you have to work out the kinks with the company and reconnect with your family," she said.

"But I'll be gone for a month—what about Rob? I need to be there for you."

"I'll be fine," Nina assured him. "And there's nothing Skype can't fix," she smiled, leaning forward to kiss him before—

_BING._

_DING._

They groaned and glanced back at their iPhones.

"That was mine. Flight was rescheduled—I don't have to be there for five hours," he responded, smiling.

"That wasn't my phone," Nina answered, grabbing her robe as she got up. "It sounded like the intercom; we're getting buzzed."

"Does that happen often?" He asked, following her suit.

"No—everyone that is allowed up here has a key. And Gwen usually just barges in," Nina replied. Then, she cleared her throat. "Ryan?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you so early, Ms. Martin, but there's someone downstairs for you. She says it's urgent…and she's threatening to have me shipped back to Russia." The doorman's terrified voice came over the intercom.

Nina sighed. "I'll be down there in a few, Ryan." Then, she clicked off and turned to her fiancé. "I wonder who's threatening Ryan."

"Whoever it is doesn't sound pleasant," he marveled and began to search for their discarded clothing. He handed her his plaid shirt and her jeans from last night, and she slipped them on.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "My life is so complicated, and you don't deserve this—"

"Hey," he interrupted her, wrapping her into his arms. "We're going to get through this—us against the world…"

"Full of socialites, beauty queens, and rich billionaires? Are you up for the challenge?"

He held up her hand. "That's what this ring represents—I'm up for anything the world throws at us."

She smiled at him before leaning up for a kiss.

"MS. MARTIN! SHE'S CHOKING ME!" Ryan screamed before the intercom cut off.

They exchanged a panicked glance.

"I think we should get down there," she replied, tossing his shirt at him.

"And call the NYPD," he stated, only half-joking.

They headed down to the lobby. The doors opened, and Ryan's strangled screams greeted them.

"Please, ma'am! Don't hurt me!"

A familiar, calm voice taunted. "Then, let me upstairs."

"I can't! It's—ow!"

Nina and Fabian turned the corner to see a redhead hitting Ryan over the head with her purse.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Nina shouted.

The redhead turned, revealing her face.

Nina paused and felt the air leave her body.

"Oh, dear," she whispered, releasing Ryan. Ryan slumped against his desk, gasping for air. "Oh, Nina, dear! I haven't seen you in years!" She gushed, grabbing her face.

Nina slapped her hands away. "Don't touch me," she blurted. "What are you doing here?"

Emily put her hands on her slim hips. "Is this how you treat family?"

"You are not my family," she hissed.

"Family?" Her fiancé asked, confused.

Emily turned her attention to the young gentleman. She frowned. "Didn't she tell you? I'm her aunt."

Fabian turned to Nina, but she avoided his eyes.

Ryan gasped loudly. "I think she crushed my windpipe…"

* * *

Meanwhile, across Central Park, another family was waking up. Though, this family wasn't waking up to blissful silence. Instead, four (and a half) shuffled through the medium-sized UWS apartment, often bumping into each other.

Juliana was dressed in her leotard, and her purple gym bag was perched on her shoulder. She was impatiently tapping her foot to unknown beat. It was her first day at the new gym, and she was eager to get back into the groove of training.

"DAD! HURRY UP!" She screamed at her father, whom was shoving his laptop into his bag.

"I'm coming, Juliana! You know, practice doesn't start for another hour," he told her.

Juliana pouted. "But I want to show Coach Hugh my routines."

"And you will," her stepmother promised, coming up from behind Juliana. She handed Juliana her grips. **(2) **"You forgot these."

Juliana smiled gratefully. "Thanks." She embraced her stepmom. "See you later!" And the blonde bounced out of the apartment, her ponytail swinging.

Eddie smiled at his wife. "You're so good with kids," he observed.

She blushed. "I have to, Krueger. You did knock me up," Patricia gestured to her baby bump.

Eddie laughed. "And I had fun while doing so. See you later," he said, kissing her hard.

She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck. They pulled back, not wanting to let each other go.

She waved and closed the door. She leaned against it, thinking about how different their goodbye was, compared to three months ago. Three months ago, they barely kissed each other, let alone banter playfully.

"Trixie?" Francis called from the living room. He was watching a documentary on space—smart kid.

"Yeah?" She replied, crashing back to reality.

Francis paused the program and bit his lip. "Since we don't have to pick Juliana up for a few more hours, can you show me around the city? I've been reading about it, but it's not the same—"

"Say no more, Francis—we're going on an adventure!"

* * *

Mara stared at the ten photos she had arranged on Jerome's—no, theirs—smooth, wooden floor.

The Brooklyn apartment had sixteen, oversized windows that captured an impossible view of the Statue of Liberty, Brooklyn Bridge, Manhattan Bridge, the Empire State Building, and the beautiful sunrise. **(3)**

Jerome returned to her side, handing her a steaming cup of tea. "Still looking at the crime scene photos?" He asked.

She nodded. "It doesn't make sense. Why would the victim have a broken hyoid bone? Adolescents have a flexible, almost unbreakable hyoid bone. This doesn't make sense."

"Forgive me for not having a M.D., but what the hell is a hyoid bone?"

Mara smirked. "Finally—something I know that you don't know."

"Which will never happen again," Jerome interjected, pecking her on the lips…which eventually evolved into a heated kiss.

Mara kissed back before pulling away. "Distracting me from the case, I see," she pushed him away.

"I'd hate to say this, but you're obsessed with this—more than I am," he admitted.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"…actually, it's the opposite. It's quite the turn-on."

Mara raised an eyebrow. "Did you use that line on Moira?"

Jerome groaned. "Will you ever let that go?"

Moira was a detective at the precinct, and she was Jerome's former lover. **(4) **She hated Mara—despite not knowing her at all. Ross Torres, a fellow detective, often joked and compared Mara and Moira. (Note the spelling.)

"Why does she hate me so much?" Mara asked.

"In my eyes, she was nothing more than a fling. But she wanted something serious, which was something I couldn't give her. But now, I have a surgeon turned consultant detective as a girlfriend. You're beautiful, sweet, and smart—the exact opposite of Moira. She's jealous, but in her defense, anyone would be crushed."

Mara nodded. "I guess so. Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

Jerome smiled and brushed a dark strand of hair from her face. He cleared his throat. "Do I have to prove it to you? 'But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Mara is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon.'"

"Quoting Shakespeare? Another pick-up line? A simple yes or no would've sufficed," she joked

"Yeah, but that was way more romantic," he assured her.

"Well, you've got that right," Mara answered, connecting their lips. Then, she leaned against him, and the two watched the sunrise.

* * *

Fabian looked between the two Martins, noting their similarities—their green eyes, bow-shaped lips, and tall figure.

But they differed in their mannerisms. Emily was stuck-up and snobby—everyone Nina hated about the UES.

"I had to come and help plan my only niece's…second wedding," Emily gushed.

"Well, we don't need your help," Nina coolly responded, crossing her arms.

Emily looked at her with a pitiful expression. "Honey, you need my help. For God's sake, your last wedding had tulips in your bridal bouquet!"

"Tulips are my favorite," she bristled.

"Roses are prettier," Emily insisted. **(5) **Then, she turned to Fabian. "Do you know what flowers are appropriate for a bridal bouquet?"

Fabian stammered, his confidence faltering in her presence.

"Why are you here?" Nina repeated, reaching over and intertwining their hands. She smiled briefly at him.

Fabian sighed. _God, I really love her, he thought to himself._

"I already told you—"

The elevator dinged, and a sleepy Will emerged, rubbing his eyes. "Mom? Fabian? What are you guys doing down here?"

Emily smiled. "William!" She exclaimed, rushing forward. She threw her arms around him.

Will's eyes widened. "Great aunt Emily?"

"Oh, you remember! How's my favorite eight year old—"

"Six, almost seven," he corrected, and Nina cracked a smile. "And I am doing okay," he finished.

"Well, I've got something for you," Emily smiled and pulled a wrapped box from her purse.

Ryan's hands absentmindedly felt the bruise on his head and scowled. _So, that was what was hitting me in the head, he marveled._

Will opened the box and found a little card in the box. "What's this?"

"A year-long subscription to National Geographic Kids," Emily answered, with a smile. "I heard it was your favorite."

Will's eyes lit up. "Thank you!" He thanked, hugging her.

"You're welcome," Emily said.

Nina uncrossed her arms. She gently grabbed Emily's arm and whispered into her ear, "Rob is trying to get custody of Will."

Emily gasped. "No—he can't do that! Does Will know?"

Nina looked down. "No," she admitted. "I just got the letter two days ago. I don't know how to break it to him."

"The same way you told him that Rob was a bad guy—slowly and gently," Emily told her. "Look, I'll be there for you guys. When's the first meeting with the lawyers?"

"Wednesday, but Fabian was recently called away on business," Nina responded, biting her lip.

"I'll stand in," Emily immediately interjected. She turned to Fabian, almost remorseful. "I'll take good care of her."

He nodded, not able to speak.

Emily grinned. "Great! Now, I'm starved! Who's hungry? My treat—go on, get dressed!"

But when Emily whirled around, Fabian could've sworn he saw a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

And that was when his trust in Emily dwindled.

* * *

Joy turned over and grinned, her eyes fluttering open.

There was a blonde, sex god in her bed. Well, he was snoring and drooling, but he was still sexy as hell.

And he was Joy's—not Jenna's, Camille's, or Olivia's. He was fully committed to her.

She giggled happily, waking the blonde up.

Mick chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"You have a morning voice," she noted.

"I thought you noticed that the first time I stayed over," Mick replied. "What time is it?"

"Hmm, I don't know—I'm not used to London time. This country may be my homeland, but living in America can be a pain in the—shit!" The petite brunette cursed, standing up.

Mick was suddenly alert. "What? What's wrong?"

Joy didn't answer as she rushed around her bedroom in her silk PJ's. "I'm late for my first day," she cried.

Mick looked over at the clock. "Oh, yeah—I forgot that was today," he drawled lazily.

"How could you forget? Today is the first day of my fashion career—big changes are ahead!" Joy screamed from the bathroom. "I could've sworn I set an alarm..."

Mick froze. **(6) **"Um," he stammered. "You know how…technology is! Are you sure you don't want to stay home…eat chocolate…stay in bed?" He suggested.

"Stop trying to seduce me! Plus, I'm saving that day for when I'm a famous fashion designer, living in Paris with my cute, little pug! Oh, and my dashing boyfriend," Joy said, emerging from the bathroom, fully dressed.

Her glossy hair was thrown up into a bun. Her face was fresh of makeup. She wore a pair of black leggings, a blue oxford shirt, white flats, and a cropped white jacket. A striped, blue and white scarf was looped around her neck.

Mick's breath got caught in his throat. She had less than five minutes to get prepared, and she looked like a French model.

"How do I look?" She echoed, twirling for him.

"Stunning," he replied, kissing her hand.

She blushed. "Thank you." Then, she remembered that she was late. She grabbed her portfolio and bag. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll see you tonight—your place?"

"I have conditioning until 6, but yeah, dinner at my place would be great," he replied, tugging on his discarded shirt and jeans.

Joy smiled. "Love you!" And she ran out of the door.

Mick stood there, wanting to run after her. And finally, he did. "Joy!" He shouted, grabbing his shoes from the doorway. He ran down the stairs, narrowly tripping over his own feet.

She heard him and stopped in her tracks. "What is it?" She asked.

Mick took a deep breath. "Why walk there when you can be escorted by _moi_?" He gestured to his car—a silver masterpiece.

"Don't you have practice in a half-an-hour?" Joy questioned.

Mick grinned. "With this car, I can make it there in ten. Come on."

* * *

Juliana took a deep breath before launching into her mount: a stoop through with rear support. She steadied herself before throwing herself into her first flight series: a back handspring with step out, a back handspring, and a layout. She posed before transitioning into a switch ring leap and a sheep jump. She moved to the end of the beam and held her leg up for three whole seconds. Then, Juliana connected two aerial walkovers and an aerial cartwheel, with a minor balance check. She leaped and connected it to a back pike. She completed a full turn with one leg held horizontal and another full turn. She used two connected jumps to get to the middle of the beam. She took a deep breath before launching herself into her dismount: a back handspring with step out, back handspring, and double twist. **(7)**

She landed perfectly, with her legs practically glued straight.

"Good job, Juliana. Watch your legs on your second flight series. Maybe we can upgrade your double twist int twist," Coach Hugh said, writing a side comment down on his clipboard.

"You think so?" Juliana asked.

Hugh nodded. "Your future is very bright, Juliana."

Juliana smiled before noticing someone behind Hugh. "There's my stepmom and brother!" She exclaimed, waving at the observation room.

Hugh glanced at his watch. "I have time before my meeting—let's go and meet your stepmom and brother."

Juliana grabbed her bag from the sidelines. "He's my twin, too! Fraternal, of course. I got the good looks and athletic skills—he got the smarts."

Hugh laughed. "I think you're smart, too, Juliana."

"No, I'm not. My brother skipped a grade," Juliana said as they neared the door. "He's going into sixth grade, while I'm stuck in fifth grade. He's taking Honors courses, which is like seventh grade classes for a sixth grader. So, he's like two years ahead of me."

"Juliana—"

"Juliana!" Francis exclaimed, running towards his sister. "You were amazing! I was afraid that you were going to fall and hit your head and forget who we were or go into an alternate reality—"

"Francis," Juliana interrupted, giggling. "I'm okay. Coach Hugh, meet my twin."

"Hello, Francis," he smiled warmly. "I'm Coach Hugh."

Francis looked at Hugh's outstretched hand and timidly shook it. "Hello," he mumbled.

"Your sister was just telling me all about you. You're very smart," Hugh complimented.

"Thank you," Francis muttered.

Then, Hugh's attention was drawn to Patricia. "Hello," he greeted, running a hand through his longish locks. "You must be Juliana's and Francis's stepmom."

Patricia nodded and held out her hand. "I'm Patricia Williamson-Sweet."

Hugh ignored her offered hand and kissed her hand gently. "I'm Hugh."

Juliana and Francis exchanged a worried expression.

"No last name?" Patricia asked, pulling away her hand.

"Just Hugh," he grinned.

Patricia rested her hands on Juliana's and Francis's shoulders. "Well, we must be going. I'm sure Juliana is tired—"

"So, so tired," Juliana interjected.

"And Francis and I have walked the entire length of New York City—"

"We swam to Ellis Island," Francis deadpanned.

"Well, okay. See you tomorrow at 3, Juliana. And see _you_ later, Ms. Williamson."

"It's Mrs. Sweet!" Patricia shouted over her shoulder as the Sweet family hastily exited the gym.

"Creep," Francis whispered. "Great—now I can't eat lunch."

Hugh was so busy staring that he didn't notice the angry brunette glaring at Patricia from across the gym.

* * *

Amber closed _Living by the Shore _and sighed. If only she could have the love Brian and Peyton had…

"I did," she whispered, and a tear slipped down her face. She remembered every detail of Noel—his handsome face, talent, horrible clothing, dreams of publishing his art, his scruffy beard, and impressions.

A knock sounded at the door, jarring her from her thoughts.

She cleared her throat. "Come in."

The timid, servant girl entered, her hands held behind her back. "Your father is on the phone."

Amber sighed. "Tell him I'm in a meeting."

The servant nodded, but continued. "Your Serene Highness; if you don't mind me asking, but why do you reject your father's calls?"

"You'll understand, Juliet, when you make sacrifices," Amber replied. "Juliet? Please bring me some gelato and pizza. And _A Walk to Remember _and _Living by the Shore_, please. I have a sudden craving for sweets and sappy chick flicks."

* * *

Melissa Campbell's office was a mess; sketches, clothes, pencils, erasers, and sticky notes were everywhere.

And Joy loved it.

She walked up to a pretty redhead. "Excuse me?"

The redhead looked up, rolled her eyes, and returned back to her magazine.

Joy bristled. "I'm the new intern," she spoke loudly.

The redhead sighed.

"Joy Mercer—ring a bell?" She questioned. "Hello?"

The redhead didn't glance up.

Joy gritted her teeth. "Look, you plastic bit—"

"Joy!" A slim blonde with short locks exclaimed. She threw her arms around Joy.

Joy gasped, recognizing her from Vogue. "Oh, my god—you're Melissa Campbell!"

Melissa laughed. "And you're the girl that has finally tamed my monster of a brother," she bantered, playfully punching Joy's shoulder. **(8)**

The redhead coughed. "_This_ is the girl Mickey loves?" She asked, eyeing Joy with disgust.

Joy glared at the redhead. "Yes, I'm the girl Mick loves."

"Eva," Melissa scolded. "Don't be so rude to my future sister-in-law!"

"Sister-in-law?" Eva and Joy exclaimed, glaring at each other.

Melissa waved her hand. "Can't you see it? Mick's madly in love—it's only a matter of time before he pops the question."

"And your cherry—for God's sake, you practically scream virgin. Your clothes look like a soccer mom and preschooler picked them out," Eva criticized.

Joy's smile slipped from her face.

"Eva!" Melissa reprimanded. She turned to Joy with an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry—"

"No, everyone needs a critic in their life," Joy murmured.

Melissa cracked a smile. "Come," she said, gesturing to her office.

Joy followed, but not before knocking Eva's coffee onto her latest edition of Vogue.

"Payback's a bitch," Joy grinned triumphantly before skipping off to Melissa's office.

Eva gaped at the brunette. "That bitch," she whispered.

Melissa closed the door after Joy. "Please, take a seat."

Joy complied, and Melissa sat down across from her, twirling slightly. She pressed a button on her phone and whispered a command into it.

Seconds later, two women entered, carrying coffees and pastries.

"I assume you haven't had breakfast," Melissa explained.

Joy only nodded.

"Again, I'm sorry about Eva. She has a massive crush on Mick. What I'm trying to say is that they have history together," Melissa stated.

"Oh," Joy deflated a bit. Of course Mick had history with his sister's pretty receptionist.

"But it wasn't serious," Melissa rushed to comfort Joy. "I mean, it was just a few late nights, dinners...sexting…"

"Sexting?" Joy exclaimed.

"Oh, dear." Melissa actually looked sympathetic. "What Eva said was true. You are a virgin."

"Sexting?" Joy echoed and rubbed her temples. She knew Mick was…experienced, but she didn't know he was _that_ experienced. What was she supposed to expect from a former (hopefully) playboy? "Oh, god, I need a drink…"

"You know what? Let's get off of that subject!" Melissa clapped her hands together. "Now…you're not an intern anymore."

Joy stopped eating, frozen in fear. "What?" She whispered. "I was f-fired?"

Melissa laughed. "No, silly! I've witnessed your talent, unlike the pitiful interns we have here. Since I fired my last assistant for mistaking pink for fuchsia, I'm appointing you my assistant."

Joy coughed. "Are you seriously? An assistant?"

Melissa nodded. "You will run errands for me, boss around the interns, come up with alternate designs, present your own ideas, accompany me on visits, and etc."

Joy covered her mouth, tears streaming out of her eyes. "Oh, this is like a—"

"Okay, I need you to deliver these tablets to Maggie Cullen, my associate. Get the address from Eva. Also, I need your portfolio. And for tomorrow, prepare a PowerPoint based on my notes, which are right here," Melissa instructed, gesturing to the messy notepad.

Joy was taken back, but she recovered quickly. "Right away," she responded, standing up. Then, she stopped in her tracks. "But I don't have a car…"

Melissa smirked. "Every assistant gets a car—here," Melissa tossed a silver key at Joy. "Go downstairs and into the garage."

Joy smiled. "Thanks, Melissa!"

The petite brunette skipped out of the office.

Melissa waited until Joy was out of earshot before she picked up her phone. "Aaron? Yes, I need you right away. My new assistant wants to take measurements of you for our fall line. Tomorrow? Perfect. See you then!"

* * *

"Wait, so your aunt suddenly pops up, interrupting your after sex snuggle?" Gwen asked.

Nina groaned. "Yes. And my fiancé left for a month-long trip in Arizona. You know what's in Arizona?"

"…rattlesnakes?"

"Women! His coworkers! His friends!" She shouted, exasperated.

"Whoa, do you seriously doubt him?"

"No, it's not that. I trust him—completely. It's just that," she sighed, "I made him move his entire life. I don't know much about his life there," she admitted. "Or how attractive his female coworkers and employees are…"

"Are you seriously—okay, I say this in the straightest way possible, but you're fucking hot! And judging by the quantity of sex you're having, your fiancé agrees with me. So, if some average blonde in a tight skirt intimidates you, I'd suggest you take the next plane out and show her how it's done."

"Gwen! I can't just drop everything and jet off to Arizona. I have Will, a custody case, and I have to write the screenplay for the sequel to _Living by the Shore_."

Gwen held out her hands in surrender. "It was just a thought! Just a thought…"

Nina's phone buzzed, and she checked it. Her eyebrow furrowed in confusion. "I just got a $15K royalty check," she said. "Do you know about this?"

Gwen fervently shook her head. "No. Does it say what it's for?"

"HoA," she read and shrugged her shoulders. "I'll get that cleared up—"

"Hey," Gwen exclaimed. "Did you call my sister?"

"I did, and your sister and her supervisor agreed to take on the case. Thank you for suggesting her."

"No probably. She's a sucker for custody battles—and she's a big fan."

"You know, you've never mentioned your sister. What is she like?"

Gwen gritted her teeth. "Perfectly perfect."

"Gwen, are you okay?"

"…yeah," Gwen snapped out of her thoughts. "Tell Will I said hi."

Nina sent her best friend a concerned glance before leaving.

* * *

Patricia sat on the couch, reading. The streets of New York raged below her, and she found it oddly relaxing.

The door opened, and Eddie walked in. Though he was tired, his ruggedly handsome face still smiled at the sight of his gorgeous wife on the couch.

"Hey," he greeted her. He threw his satchel on a chair and joined her on the couch. "Where are Juliana and Francis?" He gestured to their shared room.

"Juliana is sleeping—she nailed her routines for the new coach today. And Francis is doing yoga."

"We have some awesome kids."

"Yes we do."

"And how is the latest addition to the Sweet family?" Eddie asked Patricia's small baby bump.

"Kicking and annoying—four more months until our fireball gets here," Patricia reported, sighing as she leaned back.

He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her neck. "But it'll all be worth it—to see that bundle of joy in your arms," he whispered.

Patricia smiled. "God, you're so sentimental."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No; in fact, it makes you handsomer—if that's possible."

His grin grew.

"All right, don't let that get to your already big ego, Krueger."

"…love you, Yacker."

"Love you, too, Krueger."

* * *

***-Title taken from 1973 film.**

**(1) Since Will goes to an advanced school, he has skipped a grade. He's in third grade, with honors. **

**(2) Grips are used to eliminate the injuries you get from the uneven bars.**

**(3) Jerome's apartment is based on Anne Hathaway's Brooklyn apartment. Look it up.**

**(4) I'm contemplating writing a spin-off, with Jerome and Mara. It can be about their adventures and cases at the precinct. Would you read that?**

**(5) Remember the roses.**

**(6) Smooth, Mick. Smooth.**

**(7) Juliana's routine is Norah Flatley's beam routine—just a few changes here and there. Norah Flatley is awesome…just saying.**

**(8) I'm pretty sure that "friendly" punch wasn't so friendly…**

**-Morgan, xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2: The Wild, Wild Brunch

**Only You**

**A/N: Thanks for the strong and overwhelming response to the first chapter—that was only the beginning! :D**

**Sorry for the long wait—I was waiting out a review (I really need to stop doing that!).**

**Response to Reviews:**

** sinfullysarcastic Thanks! You're an awesome reviewer! :)**

** Bubbles1023 Aww, thanks for the compliments! I think Emily's character development in the second and third arcs will make everyone either love or hate her. ;)**

** Pink Phoenix Potter Sadly, this is my first story without an Egyptian mystery, but this story won't be a soap opera. There will still be a shroud of mystery. I know my pacing was off in ACH—I was so naïve. O.O In gymnastics, they have different terms than for tumbling. An aerial cartwheel is an actual aerial cartwheel. No, you're fine—I welcome constructive criticism.**

**I'm trying something new. It's not drastically change, but an undetectable tweak. Since there were so many conflicts introduced in the epilogue, I'm splitting the story into three arcs. I'm not posting it three times, but separating the arcs help me organize everything. It's more for me writing it than for you reading it. Does it make sense? PM me if you have any questions.**

**I also have news about the poll at the end of the chapter. Stay tuned.**

**Chapter 2—The Wild, Wild Brunch***

"Oh, Philippe, that sounds wonderful," his mother, Princess Charlotte, raved as the family ate breakfast. **(1)**

Philippe fake-smiled. "Yes, mother, it is," Philippe echoed.

Princess Charlotte glanced at the quiet blonde, whom was picking at her food. "And how are you, Amber?"

Amber flinched and only nodded in a weak response.

Philippe frowned and discreetly kicked Amber's shin. He gestured for her to act happy.

Amber sighed. "Everything is _très bien_," she replied with fake enthusiasm.

Juliet entered the dining room timidly and brought Philippe his crepes. She stood back and asked, almost robotically, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Philippe dismissed her with a wave, and she practically ran out of there. Amber stared at her, and her gaze shifted to a casual Philippe.

Something was wrong; Philippe had done something bad to Juliet—the very thought of it made Amber sick to her stomach. Juliet was very young, about eighteen. She had been so kind to Amber…

Now, Amber was determined to bring Philippe down—not just for herself anymore, but for Juliet.

* * *

Will frowned at his reflection. "Great aunt Emily? Why do I have to wear a suit?" He questioned.

Emily came up from behind him and tweaked his tie. "It's a brunch," she answered smoothly. "We have to look nice—we represent the Martin dynasty."

"You mean family," Nina corrected, entering the living room. "Will, why don't you go and get your shoes? You left them in your room," she told him, kissing his forehead briefly.

Will grinned at his mother. "Okay!" And he darted down the hallway, his curls flopping.

Emily sighed. "He has to get a haircut."

"Will likes his hair long, and I think it looks nice."

"It looks like an afro!" Emily protested.

"No, it doesn't, and I don't think we should go to this brunch."

"We should—plus, it will be great publicity, and you need it for the trial," Emily sternly replied. Then, her face softened. "But you look really nice—almost as nice as I did at your age. Pink suits you."

Nina rolled her eyes. "Thanks." She sarcastically twirled for her, her dress fluttering around her legs. "Does it meet your standards? Of course it does—you picked it out. Don't you think I'm getting too old for you to pick out my clothes?"

"Nonsense—you're not even thirty yet," Emily answered.

"I have a son."

"…that only means you had a son when you were twenty-three. Come on, let's go. The car is waiting downstairs. Will!" Emily shouted.

"The car?" Nina repeated, confused. "I have a car."

Emily stopped in her tracks. "No one has a car in New York, especially on the Upper East Side. That's what drivers are for," Emily scolded. "Oh, you're not ready to enter society again!"

"…enter society again? What are you talking about? I thought the three of us were having brunch…"

"…at van der Hoults, yes," she responded.

"The van der Hoults? Aunt Emily, do you remember what Cassie van der Hoult did to me at my debutante ball?" **(2)**

Emily rolled her eyes. "It's Cassie King, now; are you still mad at her? That was nearly ten years ago!"

"Bullying doesn't go away."

"…just go! You might like it! Don't hold a grudge," Emily said, patting Nina on her head.

* * *

Alfie entered the café and smiled slightly at the familiar barista behind the counter.

"Hot chocolate with a chocolate filled croissant?" The barista questioned knowingly.

Alfie sighed. "Yes, please," he said, plopping into a chair.

"Bad day?" Suzette questioned, a strand of her reddish-blonde hair falling into her face.

"You have no idea."

"How's your novel going?" Suzette asked, setting the pastry in front of him.

He shoved it into his mouth and mumbled, "Finished."

"Finished? Then, what are you waiting for?"

"A publisher. Someone that actually wants it."

"Someone will want it. Come on, it's a good concept. A son of a duke, trying to live up to his parents' standards. That is so amazing and original—where did you come up with that?"

Alfie stopped chewing, and his eyes widened. "Saw it on a stall in the bathroom," he lamely answered.

She shrugged. "Whatever—it's an amazing novel."

"You haven't even read it."

"But I know you, and you're amazing," Suzette complimented. "Listen—my sister works for a publishing company—"

"No, I want to get there on my own."

She was lost in thought for a few moments before grinning. "We leave next Monday."

Alfie raised an eyebrow. "Leave? What are you talking about?"

She grinned. "We're going to New York to submit your work."

"Suzette, you're crazy. My work isn't good enough—"

"Alfie! We're going, and you're going to live out your dream," Suzette sternly finished, walking into the back room.

"You have no idea how true that novel is, Suzette," Alfie muttered, looking outside of the window. With another sigh, he finished off his hot chocolate, leaving behind three dollars and a small tip for Suzette.

She deserved that much...before he told her the truth or left again.

* * *

The heat of Arizona was a sharp contrast from the humid climate of New York, but nevertheless, Fabian found himself enjoying the familiar weather as he drove to work.

It was crazy; he left for a retreat three months ago, and he was coming back engaged and in charge of the company. Sometimes, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

He pulled into his parking spot and looked up at the half-dark building. For seven years, this place had been his home away from home.

He shook his head and exited the car quickly, heading upstairs. He was greeted with silence.

It was too quiet, and he knew that something bad was about to happen.

He ventured through the halls, preparing for a surprise attack. His coworkers and friends were infamous for their outrageous and over-the-top parties. At one of these parties, a small fire emerged. No one was hurt…badly.

But still, it made Fabian uneasy.

With a sharp intake of breath, he slowly opened the door to the conference room, where the daily meetings were held.

"Hello?" He called, turning on the light. His eyes scanned the conference room, and to his surprise, no one was there. He laughed. There was no party! He was safe—

"WAR CRY!"

Something crashed behind him, and he turned too late. Someone launched at him, knocking him to the ground.

"Did you really think we weren't going to throw you a party, _boss_?" His friend, Tate, teased, patting him roughly on the back.

"Tate, I think he has had enough," Samantha interjected, jumping up from her hiding spot—behind the projector screen.

"You would think that three months in the Hamptons would make you tanner," Rose, Tate's wife, quipped, entering the room. She was balancing various boxes of brunch food, and Daisy followed her with crates of numerous beverages.

"I was busy," he defended himself, getting up and dusting himself off.

"Yeah, you were busy," a voice added from under the table. The skinny intern, Dean, popped out of under the table and grinned. "Busy sexing up your fiancée. Congrats, by the way."

"Who's the unlucky girl?" Tate asked, seizing a bottle of water from his wife.

"You seriously don't know?" Dean, Rose, Daisy, and Samantha echoed.

Tate rolled his eyes. "Whoops, sorry, I'm not a news whore like you guys!"

Fabian reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone.

"Oh, she's your lock screen. Things are serious," Tate teased, grabbing the iPhone. His eyes got wide, and he dropped his bottle of water. "Holy shit, she's sexy."

Rose shoved him and glared. "Would you like to rephrase that?" She asked, and her voice was as sharp as knives.

"I-I mean, she's hot—"

Rose rolled her eyes and stormed out of the conference room.

"Wait, I can explain—oh, damn."

"Ha, you're in the doghouse," Dean taunted and nudged Daisy.

Fabian slapped Tate on the back, and Tate almost fell forward.

"What the hell, dude?" Tate asked, regaining balance.

He shrugged. "That's what you get for talking about my fiancée that way."

Tate coughed and ran after Rose. "Wait, Rose! I can explain!"

Daisy rolled her eyes at Tate. "God, he's such a dick."

Samantha grinned. "Anyways, I can't wait to move to the Big Apple! The bright lights, skyscrapers, the city that never sleeps—"

"Rude people, cab fares, and socialites," Fabian finished. "It's not Wonderland, Samantha."

"I know, but it's a new experience," Samantha argued. "What's up with you?"

Fabian sighed. "It's Nina's aunt. She's moving in to help in my absence."

"Because?" Dean questioned.

"God, Dean, you're so stupid! Her scum of an ex is trying to take her son away from her," Samantha exclaimed, swatting him. "Continue, Fabian."

"She's…weird. I just get a bad vibe from her. Like she's trying to make Nina something she isn't."

"You're only here for a month—she can't change that much," Samantha assured him.

"And you talk to her every night, right?" Dean asked.

He nodded in response.

"Then, it'll be okay. Just trust her."

"It's not her I don't trust—it's her aunt."

"Don't worry about that—let's dig in. Rose made a bunch of food for a late brunch," Daisy interjected.

He sighed as a plate was set in front of him. But his thoughts still ran wild; was he overreacting?

* * *

Joy entered the office, glaring slightly at Eva before making her way to Melissa's personal office.

"Melissa?" She called, but halted in her footsteps.

Melissa was talking to a male, but stopped when she saw Joy.

"Joy! I was just talking about you," Melissa gushed. "Joy, meet Aaron. He's one of my best models. Aaron, meet Joy, my new assistant."

As Aaron turned, Joy's breath got caught in her throat.

Aaron was as gorgeous as any male model, but he had the aura of something dark, gritty, sexy, and dangerous.

Aaron's brown eyes studied Joy curiously. "Mel, she's stunning," he noted, not taking his eyes off of her. "Where did you get her?"

"My brother brought her to my attention." And strangely, Melissa didn't mention that Mick and Joy were dating.

"Well, Ms. Mercer," Aaron said, finally speaking directly to her. He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly. "I can't wait to work with you."

"Work with you?"

"That's right—you're responsible for Aaron, now. You will take his measurements if I'm not available, accompany him on public excursions, and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"A babysitter, in other words," Aaron replied.

"Aaron, your career is just getting started. You don't need any bad publicity to end your career before you reach your peak. And Joy's going to help you. Right, Joy?"

"Absolutely," Joy responded.

"Your agenda for today is in your inbox. Get with it," Melissa ordered before turning to her computer.

Joy nodded and exited, getting out her assigned iPad. She checked her inbox and sighed. She had to pick up accessories from Alexander McQueen's office, take measurements of five models, and prepare refreshments for a meeting. And that was just her morning schedule.

She was so focused on her iPad that she didn't register that Aaron was still trailing her.

"Hey, have you had breakfast?" Aaron asked, catching her off of her guard.

She jumped. "No," she admitted. "I overslept."

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Care to join me for brunch?"

"I have a boyfriend," Joy blurted.

"That's okay—this isn't a date. Just two employees getting to know each other better," Aaron smiled.

"Do you not see the agenda I have? And that's just for the morning—you don't want to see my evening schedule."

"Ten minutes. Please? I know a great place down the street."

Joy sighed. "Fine. Ten minutes, and I'm holding you accountable if I get into trouble."

Aaron smirked. "I'm a man of my word."

"I'll get my bag," Joy said.

Aaron waited until she was out of earshot and took his phone out of his pocket.

**Aaron.**

**We're going to the café down the street.**

**Melissa.**

**Perfect.**

Aaron turned and smirked at Melissa before leaving with Joy.

Melissa smirked and composed a new and anonymous message.

**Unknown.**

**Want to know what Joy is doing with a male model? Pinkies, five minutes. (3)**

* * *

Mara examined the body closer. "She had a rotator cuff tear. Maybe from sports?"

"Maybe," Sheila Burks, a medical examiner, agreed from her right. **(4) **"But do you see the abrasions on her knuckles?" She asked.

Mara leaned forward, and Shelia set the UV lamp on the victim's hand.

"Huh, that's interesting," Mara echoed. "The abrasions are small, but-"

Moira rolled her eyes. "Cause of death? And this time, I'm asking the _actual_ medical examiner," she snapped.

"I need to run a toxic test before determining a COD. Thank you for your assistance, detective," Sheila announced, covering the body.

"You're welcome," Moira said automatically.

"I was talking to Mara," Sheila responded with a pointed glare. "See you tomorrow, Mara."

Mara disposed of her gloves and smiled at the older woman. "See you later, Sheila!"

The two women exited the medical examiner's office, but Moira began to walk quickly in the other direction.

"Hey, where are you going?" Mara asked. "I thought we were heading back to the precinct?"

Moira called over her shoulder, "Go home, rookie!"

Mara rolled her eyes. That woman was infuriating. Mara hailed a cab before heading home. Jerome and Mara agreed to meet up for a nice, relaxing brunch after checking into work briefly.

Mara decided to spend her morning with Sheila (and Moira tagged along—joy). Sheila was the only member of the team that she felt fully comfortable with. Sheila was mean, but she respected Mara, due to her intensive knowledge of the medical field.

Moira, on the other hand, was plain mean.

She smiled when the apartment came into view. She paid the cabbie and practically bolted up the stairs.

She opened the door to the apartment and found the place deserted. She ran upstairs and quickly changed into comfier clothes.

The doorbell rang, and Mara peeked around the stairs, confused. _He must have left his key again, Mara thought as she rushed down the stairs._

She opened the door, and she gasped. "Mom? Dad?"

Frankie and Jenna Jaffrey stood in the apartment's door, their expressions shocked and disgusted.

"Mara?" They echoed, along with a familiar voice.

Jerome stood behind them, his arms full of bags from their favorite café.

"Got enough for four?" Mara weakly asked.

* * *

"So, what's brunch?" Will asked as he exited the limo.

"It's like a late breakfast," Nina replied, grabbing his hand.

"It's an excuse for ladies to be nosy," Emily interjected. "Come along, now."

The three walked up to the van der Hoult townhouse, which loomed over them like a castle.

"That's a big house," Will murmured.

Emily smiled. "But ours is bigger."

Nina rolled her eyes at her aunt's words. "Classy," she muttered.

Emily ignored her niece's words and rang the bell. "Now, remember. Just talk lightly, and _don't_ bring up your debutante ball," Emily said, eyeing Nina.

"No promises!"

The door opened, and a servant welcomed them with a grim smile. "Welcome," she sighed.

Emily silently nodded her thanks and strolled past the servant, beckoning Nina and Will to follow her.

Nina smiled at the servant before grabbing Will's hand.

He was her anchor.

The Martins entered the hall leading to the dining area. The Greek-esque columns and lavish paintings of ancestors lined the walls. The floor gleamed, and an ornate chandelier hung over their heads. About twenty-five socialites milled around the dining area, chatting lightly as they sipped at champagne.

Nina felt the air leave her body, and she began to hyperventilate. This was why she left the community…

She turned to look at her aunt, but the redhead was already deep into a conversation with Mrs. Wells, the wife of a successful investor.

So many eyes studied her. She could hear their whispers.

"_Oh my god, why is she wearing Marc Jacobs?"_

"_He was so last season!"_

"_Remember her debutante ball? Such a disaster!"_

"Mom?" Will asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Yes?" Nina replied, grateful for the distraction.

"Isn't that Hayden?" Will said, gesturing across the room.

Nina looked in his direction and gasped. Sure enough, Hayden freaking Finch was sipping champagne and chatting with the governor.

He caught Nina's eye and winked. He excused himself from the conversation and strolled over there. "Morning, Miss. Fancy seeing you here," Hayden drawled. "Hey, Will."

Will nodded, smiling.

Hayden crouched down. "Hey, a few kids are playing Wii in the game room. Want to play?"

Will's face brightened, and Hayden stealthily motioned to where the game room was. Will ran off, his signature curls bouncing.

"You're great with kids," Nina observed.

"Not really," Hayden shrugged.

"Why are you here?"

Hayden opened his mouth to reply, when a deep voice interrupted them.

"Do my eyes deceive me…or is that Hayden Finch and Nina Martin?" Someone called out, causing them to turn around.

"Arthur!" They both exclaimed—one in dismay, and one in exuberance.

Arthur van der Hoult was extremely handsome; he, in a way, resembled a Roman god. His strong features were only rivaled by his steely blue eyes, and his blonde hair was crafted in a rich, tasteful manner. **(5)**

"How do you know Arthur van der Hoult?" Nina and Hayden asked each other in unison.

"Went to high school with him," Hayden answered.

"College days at Columbia," Nina responded as Arthur finally reached them.

Arthur looked between the two, and a playful look developed in his eye. "Is she Sophia 2.0?" **(6)**

Hayden's fist tightened, but he still maintained his cool and professional aura.

"No, I'm not," Nina replied sharply and sent a concerned glance in Hayden's direction. She held up her left hand and smirked. "I'm engaged, van der Hoult."

Arthur whistled lowly. "He bought you a Harry Winston. Wow, you must have done something _extra_ devious for that," he smirked.

Nina bit her tongue to avoid cursing. "How's Rachel?" She asked, settling on a topic.

His face hardened. "Divorced," he replied, his voice clipped.

Hayden perked up. "What about Léna? I saw her in the news the other day—"

"How's Sophia?" Arthur countered.

Hayden's gray eyes intensified. "Arthur," he warned, stepping forward.

Nina stepped in between them. "Hayden, please..."

Hayden stepped back, and his eyes reverted back to their usual color. "Excuse me," he coughed before venturing somewhere into the van der Hoult townhouse.

Arthur chuckled. "Same old, same old, old sport."

Nina glared at him. "Will you shut up?"

Arthur ignored her quip and continued. "The name 'Sophia' sets him off. I wonder if he still loves her," Arthur wondered aloud before walking off, leaving Nina alone-

"Nina?" A sickeningly sweet voice called from behind her.

She felt her heart rate increase, and her fingers twitched with anxiety.

Cassie van der Hoult/King stood behind her. She maintained her perfect image—her blondish hair was curled like a princess's, her lithe figure put supermodels to shame, and her pearly teeth still sparkled in the light.

"Oh, Nina, how are you?" She asked, striding forward.

Nina stepped back defensively. "I'm fine, Cassie," she snapped.

Cassie turned back, staring at the crowd of people. "Wow! It's like we're back in high school again. Oh!" She chirped, causing Nina to jump. "I forgot! Are you attending the high school reunion in November?"

"I don't know, Cassie."

"Why, Nina? Come on, it's a masquerade ball!"

"Last time I was in a room with my classmates…it didn't end well. You remember that, Cassie?"

Cassie's smile drooped. "Well," she flipped her hair, "If you decide to come, the invitation will be delivered in a few weeks."

She turned, and Nina finally took the opportunity to breathe.

"Oh, wait!" She chirped, whirling back around. "Bring that fiancé of yours—I heard he's a real…catch," Cassie finished, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Nina narrowed her eyes. "Will do, Cassie," she finally replied before walking away without a polite departure.

She finally found privacy near the back of the townhouse (seriously, this townhouse was huge). Nina pulled out her iPhone and stared at her lock screen: it was a photo she had snapped of her, Fabian, and Will. They looked happy and content—like a real family.

And Nina was determined not to let anyone destroy her family.

* * *

Joy sighed thankfully as she received her espresso macchiato. She grinned at the barista, tipping him generously before following Aaron to an empty café table outside.

"This is the best espresso macchiato ever," Joy gushed.

"You haven't even taken a sip!" Aaron exclaimed.

"It's the perfect amount of foam milk," Joy argued, taking a greedy gulp. Some foam ended up on her nose, and Aaron heartily laughed.

"You have…ah, some foam on your nose," Aaron stated, attempting to stifle his chuckles.

Joy's eyes widened, and she fervently wiped at her nose and blushed. So much for acting professional.

"So, Ms. Mercer," Aaron drawled. "Melissa told me that you're a talented designer."

"Melissa said that?" Joy asked.

Aaron nodded. "What else can I expect from such a beautiful woman?"

The warning signals in Joy's head flashed, and Joy cleared her throat. "I think our ten minutes is up," she whispered. She gestured to her cup. "I think I'll drink this on the go…"

"Hey, don't go!" Aaron jokingly said, his eyes discreetly scanning the café doors.

"Aaron," Joy started, getting suspicious. "I'm going," she finally stated, leaving.

Aaron sat back, defeated. His phone rang; it was Melissa. He answered sorrowfully.

"Mission accomplished?" Melissa questioned.

"No, she bailed; Joy's suspicious of me, Mel. She's smarter than you think. I think you should just leave her alone."

"It's not about her—it's about Mick and revenge. I didn't hire that pixie for her talent!"

"Mel, she's not that bad of a designer," Aaron admitted.

"I don't care. We'll try again later. Avoid contact for the meantime. That's an order, Aaron."

Aaron hung up without saying goodbye and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

Finally, someone sat across from him, and Aaron faced the person.

"Mick," Aaron greeted. "I'm glad you're here."

* * *

The four sat in Jerome's antique chairs, an awkward tension surrounding them. The radio was playing softly in the background, filling in the empty void.

Jenna was scrutinizing the home with a critical eye. Frankie was staring at his daughter, whom couldn't look him in the eye.

Jerome couldn't believe these two people were Mara's parents. She had never mentioned them, and Jerome didn't prod; he deduced that they had a falling out. Maybe his guess was accurate?

"I called the hospital when you didn't check in," Frankie spoke up. "I asked if you had transferred. Imagine my surprise when they told me that you_ resigned_."

Mara remained quiet, pushing her food around.

"Mara, look at me. I did _not _push myself to get you into medical school, so you could live in this shack—"

"You didn't get me into medical school," Mara whispered. "I did. _I_ worked for hours, studying. But I didn't want that—you did."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mara," Frankie chastised. "You love—"

"I don't!" Mara exploded, standing up.

"Mara, don't yell at your father," Jenna scolded.

Mara ignored her mother and continued. "I spent nearly ten years of my life doing something to impress you! To make you…treat me like your own daughter, not a disappointment!"

Frankie was quiet. "What are you doing now?" He asked.

Mara crossed her arms. "Why should I tell you?"

"I'm your father!" He shouted, looking up at her.

Mara snorted. "Sure, by blood."

"Mara!" Jenna's eyes widened.

Frankie stood. "Take that back," Frankie demanded, getting closer.

Jerome stepped in, pushing him back.

Frankie glared at him. "And this is who you choose to spend your life with? You had suitors back home, Mara. Suitors that were better than—" He paused, implying his opinion of Jerome.

Jerome gritted his teeth, angered. He opened his mouth to unleash a witty comeback when Mara laughed—she actually _laughed_.

"Do you even know who he is? What's his name?" She asked her father, almost taunting him as she circled him.

Frankie's mouth was agape; he obviously wasn't used to this side of his pure and innocent daughter. "Mara—"

"Do you know that he saved me from my depression?"

"Depression? Oh, dear, I think you're stretching it a bit—"

"Shut up, Mom," Mara snapped, and Jenna fell silent.

"He has been there for me...what have you done? You sent me to a retreat when you were convinced that I was just stressed about work. Work! A job you forced me into!" Mara shouted before calming a bit. "I'll have to admit; a part of me is happy you sent me to the retreat. If I didn't go and meet Jerome, you wouldn't have had a daughter."

Jenna gasped and put a hand on Frankie's shoulder. "Frankie…"

Frankie shrugged her hand off and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Jenna quickly followed, without a backwards glance.

Mara was breathing heavily, and Jerome approached her carefully.

"Oh, Mara," he murmured before opening his arms.

They sunk to the floor, his arms still wrapped around her small body. He whispered comforting words into her ear as she sobbed.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated, kissing her forehead.

And for the first time since his mother's death, Jerome Clarke truly felt terrified.

* * *

"Why are you telling me this, Aaron?" Mick inquired.

Aaron sighed. "I have a guilty conscience. Plus, why should Joy's feelings be toyed with? She's a fantastic designer, but Melissa doesn't care about that. She wants revenge, and she's willing to hurt Joy in the process." Aaron reached into his bag and pulled out Joy's portfolio. "I found this in her recycling bin—she didn't even read it. Frankly, I think she's jealous of Joy."

A small smile came to Mick's lips. "Of course she's jealous; Joy's one-in-a-million." Then, Mick paused. "Thanks, Aaron—for everything."

Aaron smirked. "You're welcome." He hesitated. "I can't always be there for Joy, especially after today. I might be fired or moved to a different branch. Keep an eye on her."

Mick nodded. "Fired?"

"Or resigned," Aaron sighed. "I honestly can't deal with Melissa. Plus, her designs are too plain for me."

Mick's eyes widened, and Aaron chuckled.

"Yes, I'm 110% gay," Aaron confirmed. "Apparently, your sister can't tell."

"That's ironic," Mick muttered under his breath. **(7) **"Thanks again."

Aaron waved. "No problem."

The two men parted away, leaving the café with lighter souls…completely missing the barista tucking his phone away with a smirk.

* * *

"How was your day, love?" Fabian asked his fiancée.

"Tiring," she replied with a wilted smile. "How was yours?"

"Tiring," he echoed and placed his bruised wrist in front of the screen. "My coworkers threw me a party, and as usual, I walked away with an injury."

"Let me guess—Tate tackled you?"

"…the one and only. Did you ever figure out what that check was about?"

"No, but I'm going to the bank tomorrow; it must be a mix-up. Let's not talk about that."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Things we'll do when you get back…things we'll do after the trial," Nina answered, trailing off.

"You're not going to lose Will," he spoke up, wishing he was there in person. "The judge will see that you're the better parent; hell, a blind person could tell that you love Will way more than Rob."

She smiled. "How do you always know what to say? You're perfect."

"I'm not perfect," he shrugged. "I just know what to say to my soul mate."

Her heart melted. "Are you sure you're not a romance writer?" She joked. "I love you," she blurted.

He smiled. "I love you, too. See you tomorrow."

She blew a kiss, and he reciprocated before disconnecting the call.

Though 2,406.5 miles away, the two soul mates felt like they were in each other's arms.

* * *

**Whew! That was easily one of my longest chapters ever! But it felt good to write. :)**

***Title taken from 1969 movie, **_**The Wild Bunch**_**, and the song, **_**The Wild, Wild West**_**.**

**(1) Okay, so I'm no expert with royal families (unlike Chris Colfer). And the Monegasque throne is thoroughly complex and confusing. But I have gathered (from hours of research) that the crown is passed through male-preference primogeniture. Translation: the crown can only be passed to a female member of the dynasty, if and only if, she has no living brothers or deceased brothers that have living descendants. Just to make things easier, that is the case for this story. Charlotte is basically Louise Hippolyte, the only Sovereign Princess of Monaco to reign. Rulers of Monaco can't be called King or Queen because Monaco is a principality, not a kingdom. The highest rank is Prince or Princess. To summarize, when Princess Charlotte dies or becomes too ill to rule, Prince Philippe will step in. What will that make Amber (if she stays in the marriage long enough)? That will make her a princess consort (look it up). And this has been a brief history lesson by Morgan. (Told you—I researched for hours.) **

**(2) A debutante ball is a young lady's entrance into society.**

**(3) Such a strange name for a café, huh?**

**(4) Another character from the potential Jara spin-off.**

**(5) Arthur is a main character in the possible Hayden spin-off.**

**(6) She was mentioned in the epilogue, and she's a major character in the possible Hayden spin-off.**

**(7) That's an important clue…**

**Special A/N: Remember when I mentioned that I would close the poll when Patricia was about five months pregnant? Well, in a few chapters, she will finally be five months pregnant! (She was about two months when she discovered that she was pregnant in ACH.) That was in July; hopefully, in about six chapters, it'll be October. So, get your last votes in! Remember—I count anon votes, if you leave them in a review.**

**Special A/N 2: After November 20****th****, I will be posting regularly, due to my easy second trimester classes. (Thank the Lord.)**

**Summary for the next chapter:**

**Prêt pour l'école: It's the first day of school, and Will finally discovers the cruel world of the UES. He is stuck between sticking to the status quo and protecting his friends. Meanwhile, Fabian helps Dean with a difficult professor. Amber deliberates about going to college.**

**-Morgan, xoxo**


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